drew the carriole in which Smith and myself were attempting to sleep, close to the Santa Fé waggons, secured the curtains as firmly as I was able to do, spread blankets over the top and around the sides, and lashed them firmly with ropes passing over, under, and around the carriage in every direction; but to little use. The penetrating powers of that storm were not resisted by such means. Again we were thoroughly drenched. The men in the tent fared still worse than ourselves. It was blown down with the first blast; and the poor fellows were obliged to lie closely and hold on strongly to prevent it and themselves from a flight less safe than parachuting.
On the morning of the 24th, having given Smith in charge of my excellent Lieutenant, with assurance that I would join him at the "Crossings," I left them with the traders, and started with the remainder of my company for the Arkansas.
The buffalo during the last three days had covered the whole country so completely, that it appeared oftentimes extremely dangerous even for the immense cavalcade of the Santa Fé traders to attempt to break its way through them. We travelled at the rate of fifteen miles a day. The length of sight on either side of the trail, 15 miles; on both sides, 30 miles: – 15×3=45×30=1,350 square miles of country, so thickly covered with these noble animals, that when viewed from a height, it scarcely afforded a sight of a square league of its surface. What a quantity of food for the sustenance of the Indian and the white pilgrim of these plains! It would have been gratifying to have seen the beam kick over the immense frames of some of those bulls. But all that any of us could do, was to 'guess' or 'reckon' their weight, and contend about the indubitable certainty of our several suppositions. In these disputes, two butchers took the lead; and the substance of their discussions that could interest the reader is, "that many of the large bulls would weigh 3,000 pounds and upwards; and that, as a general rule, the buffalo were much larger and heavier than the domesticated cattle of the States." We were in view of the Arkansas at four o'clock, P. M. The face of the earth was visible again; for the buffalo were now seen in small herds only, fording the river, or feeding upon the bluffs. Near nightfall we killed a young bull, and went into camp for the night.
On the 25th we moved slowly along up the bank of the river. Having travelled ten miles, one of the men shot an antelope, and we went into camp, to avoid if possible another storm that was lowering upon us from the north-west; but in spite of this precaution, we were again most uncomfortably drenched.
On the 26th we struck across a southern bend in the river, and made the Santa Fé "Crossings" at four o'clock, P. M.; 27th. we lay at the "Crossings," waiting for the Santa Féäns, and our wounded companion.46 On this day a mutiny, which had been ripening ever since Smith was wounded, assumed a clear aspect. It now appeared that certain individuals of my company had determined to leave Smith to perish in the encampment where he was shot; but failing in supporters of so barbarous a proposition, they now endeavoured to accomplish their design by less objectionable means. They said it was evident, if Smith remained in the company, it must be divided; for that they, pure creatures, could no longer associate with so impure a man. And that, in order to preserve the unity of the company, they would propose that arrangements should be made with the Santa Féäns to take him along with them. In this wish a majority of the company, induced by a laudable desire for peace, and the preservation of our small force entire, in a country filled with Indian foes, readily united. I was desired to make the arrangement; but my efforts proved fruitless. The traders were of the opinion that it would be hazardous for Smith, destitute of the means of support, to trust himself among a people of whose language he was ignorant, and among whom he could consequently get no employment; farther, that Smith had a right to expect protection from his comrades; and they would not, by any act of theirs, relieve them from so sacred a duty. I reported to my company this reply, and dwelt at length upon the reasons assigned by the traders.
The mutineers were highly displeased with the strong condemnation contained in them, of their intention to desert him; and boldly proposed to leave Smith in the carriole, and secretly depart for the mountains. Had we done this inhuman act, I have no doubt that he would have been treated with great humanity and kindness, till he should have recovered from his wound. But the meanness of the proposition to leave a sick companion on the hands of those who had shown us unbounded kindness, and in violation of the solemn agreement we had all entered into on the frontier of Missouri – "to protect each other to the last extremity" – was so manifest, as to cause C. Wood, Jourdan, Oakley, J. Wood, and Blair, to take open and strong grounds against it. They declared, that "however unworthy Smith might be, we could neither leave him to be eaten by wolves, nor to the mercy of strangers; and that neither should be done while they had life to prevent it."
Having thus ascertained that I could rely upon the cooperation of these men, two of the company made a litter, on which the unfortunate man might be borne between two mules. In the afternoon of the 28th, I went down to the traders, five miles below us, to bring him up to my camp. The traders generously refused to receive anything for the use of their carriage, and furnished Smith, when he left them, with every little comfort in their power for his future use. It was past sunset when we left their camp. Deep darkness soon set in, and we lost our course among the winding bluffs. But as I had reason to suppose that my presence in the camp the next morning with Smith was necessary to his welfare, I drove on till three o'clock in the morning. It was of no avail: the darkness hid heaven and earth from view. We therefore halted, tied the mules to the wheels of the carriage, and waited for the sight of morning. When it came, we found that we had travelled during the night at one time up and at another time down the stream, and were then within a mile and a half of the trader's camp.
On reaching my encampment, I found every thing ready for marching, sent back the carriole to its owners, and attempted to swing Smith in his litter for the march; but to our great disappointment, it would not answer the purpose. How it was possible to convey him, appeared an inquiry of the most painful importance. We deliberated long; but an impossibility barred every attempt to remove its difficulties. We had no carriage; we could not carry him upon our shoulders; it seemed impossible for him to ride on horseback; the mutineers were mounted; the company was afraid to stay longer in the vicinity of the Cumanche Indians, with so many animals to tempt them to take our lives; the Santa Fé waggons were moving over the hills ten miles away on the other side of the river; I had adjured the command, and had no control over the movements of the company; two of the individuals who had declared for mercy towards Smith had gone with the traders;47 there was but one course left – one effort that could be made; he must attempt to ride an easy, gentle mule. If that failed, those who had befriended him would not then forsake him.
About eleven o'clock, therefore, on the 29th, Smith being carefully mounted on a pacing mule, our faces were turned to Bent's trading post, one hundred and sixty miles up the Arkansas. One of the principal mutineers, a hard-faced villain of no honest memory among the traders upon the Platte, assumed to guide and command. His malice towards Smith was of the bitterest character, and he had an opportunity now of making it felt. With a grin upon his long and withered physiognomy, that shadowed out the fiendish delight of a heart long incapable of better emotions, he drove off at a rate which none but a man in health could have long endured. His motive for this was easily understood. If we fell behind, he would get rid of the wounded man, whose presence seemed to be a living evidence of his murderous intentions, thwarted and cast back blistering upon his already sufficiently foul character. He would, also, if rid of those persons who had devoted themselves to saving him, be able to induce a large number of the remainder of the company to put themselves under his especial guardianship in their journey through the mountains; and if we should be destroyed by the Cumanche Indians who were prowling around our way, the blackness of his heart might be hidden, awhile at least, from the world.
The rapid riding, and the extreme warmth, well-nigh prostrated the remaining strength of the invalid. He fainted once, and had nearly fallen headlong to the ground; but all this was delight to the self-constituted leader; and on he drove, belabouring his own horse unmercifully to keep up the pace; and quoting Richard's soliloquy with a satisfaction and emphasis, which seemed to say "the winter" of his discontent had passed away, as well
For the Crossings see our volume xix, p. 218, note 54. The trading caravans proceeded by the Cimarron route, while Farnham's party took the mountain trail. – Ed.
From the later narrative it is apparent that these were Chauncey Wood and Quinn Jordan. – Ed.
